I began loving you so fast and so sudden, almost as soon as I met you. Like I had met an equal and not knowing I had been searching. 

In the before times, right there before I lost the grip of the teenage years, when you were right there, full of secret references and the most amazing quirks, with your "I sure know where I'm going" stride, you could lead me into a black hole and I'd follow, stopping right before we both fell into the unknown, just to check if you knew your way or not. You're the wildest ride I never want to get down from. The one that takes you to the prettiest sights and the most hidden places that you never forget, you're all this adventures going on all the time, a fairy from a tale, a misterious cat in a magical forest, the most amazing woman on earth.

I'm sorry it became so painful inside you. I'm sorry I don't have the right words to say to make it better, to have you see how much love I have for you and for everything you do, but today, forgive me for trying.

I love the way you pick out the right magazine cut out for every wall you put together. I adore the way you musicalize up every moment, with a headphone, a speaker or an empty cup, you always set the right vibe, the right mood, the right way to just be yourself, you make it so welcome, such a warm place it is to be in your company, to paint your nails three different colors and organize all the pencils in a rainbow order before finding figures in a children's book.

I miss being in your company more often. I miss those brunches that turned into three days of togetherness, of talking or not talking or washing dishes and making cheap ass hummus in a blender that wouldn't give and watching the shittiest disney movie ever made. 

You're the smartest toughest woman I've ever met. You have pulled me from the gutter and brought me out to see the sun and my heart holds you so dear always.

Thank you for being you, with your smile and laughter, with your gentle embrace that you never give up easily, except for me, with your dimples and your curls, for the kindest soul and the always understanding mind. For having been through hell and back. Thank you for staying.

Fuck the pearl, you're a March aquamarine.

Loving and tender, honest and loyal as they are, full of light, so clear and beautiful.

Pearls aren't even that fucking shiny.

We were something don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool.

And if my wishes came true, it would've been you.

I think I'm measuring my life from before and after Folklore.
I dig it all, but that one feels like it came out from my diaries, and I've heard from many people that everyone has their Taylor album, that there's one that wows you and makes it feel yours, like it came from the depts of your brain. 

This one's mine.

 

Hoy es uno de esos días en los que siento la necesidad de quejarme de gente horrible.

Hace años platicaba con un wey, mayor que yo (red flag 1), que siempre me hacía sentir mal conmigo misma; comentaba cosas culeras en mis fotos, me decía que tenía brazos super gordos, que me pintara bien las uñas si las traía chipped, que me veía ridícula sonriendo, en fin, mil cosas, pero luego me pedía fotos y cosas así, entonces siempre me sentí incómoda, but as per usual, no quería ser mamona o grosera.

Hace poquito que TikTok me mandó al therapy side y constantemente me sugiere videos de terapeutas y psicólogos que describen exactamente ese comportamiento como manipulación emocional, y es una estrategia que usan muchas personas para hacer a alguien susceptible. Por alguna razón, no recuerdo exactamente qué me dijo, un día me sacó el tapón y lo bloqueé de todas partes. Hace unos meses me enteré de que su ex lo estaba acusando de abuso y pues, todo me hizo mucho más sentido.

Mi ex-jefa la reina y señora de gaslightear mis quejas, hacerme "quedar mal" con los directivos, y querer que las personas a su alrededor le solucionaran los problemas emocionales, o que trataran de curarla de su mal humor en el trabajo. No sé cuál es la necesidad de los trabajos de poner personas emocionalmente manipuladoras en posiciones de gerencia o coordinación, pero pasa tan seguido que no me sorprende.

Let's not even start with my mother's “if only I were dead so you wouldn't have to deal with me any longer”

Y qué onda con este wey que compra cosas expecting nudes in return when they have always and will always be off the table? ¿Por qué las personas están buscando servicios donde no es? Y luego se ofenden terriblemente cuando remarcas que no es no, I can't even.

En fin, hay mucha gente culera y sin educación emocional.

Get therapy. 

 

Me gustan mucho las jacarandas en primavera
me gusta que pintan las banquetas de pétalos violetas
que nada queda gris
los árboles veteados de morado
sin una hoja verde
todo en flor
como pintura de Monet
como los írises del jardín 
cayendo del cielo con el viento
me gusta verlas 
se ven felices
como si te invitaran
también a florecer.

 

Un día no voy a estar
y será un día más
en el calendario infinito
un día que no signifique nada
un excelente día para no ser más.

No ansío el día de no estar
porque disfruto el olor
del pan de plátano en el horno
y el sonido
de la música por la ventana
y el frío
del viento por el cuerpo.

Pero sé que un día no seré más
y nadie más será para mí
como las olas cuando rompen
y la espuma es lo que queda
hasta que se desvanece
entre las manos.

 Look 'em in the eye, aim no higher, summon all the courage you require, then count:

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, number ten paces, fire!

I've been.

How I've been?

I've been good. I'm doing fine, I've been experimenting with the sort of life that I somehow feel that I owed myself since I didn't get to live in back in 2013. It's all a circle, it goes round and round and we come back to the same place. Same place always, but now I know better, I've seen a little more, I've sure struggled and I'm still struggling, but how nice it is, to struggle better. 

We've been fearing this moment, haven't we?
The same moment each year. It comes and we take it and at least I know somehow that talking to a miniscule audience in here always gets the best of me. I never feel like I properly do it. I feel like I don't have enough to say, or sometimes it gets to be too much to say. This isn't therapy, nobody gets paid to read my trauma.

I particularly hate the first. 
It's never good.
It's just me here rambling on and on about nothing and putting something out there just to fill in a day and hope I get a better idea for tomorrow.

Anyway, here we go.
Another year, another BEDiA.
Hamilton season begins, anyone?